Aurora
by ptdf
Summary: "Initial surveillance of that planet of yours just came in. The old man wants us in the CIC, 0800h – guess we won't be using New Caprica time much longer." Lee couldn't keep from smiling. Daybreak AU.
1. Dusk

**1. Dusk**

* * *

_All this has happened before._

**#**

Lee listened to the rumble of waves against the cliff. He pulled the patchwork fur and polyester closer. He was hungry, cold, and tired – too tired to restart the fire, too tired to jump. A coughing fit shook him. Cottle, when he was still around, had diagnosed pneumonia. How many moons had it been? Even then he no longer had the supplies to treat it. Lee derived little comfort from knowing his killer. Others had fallen to unknown native germs – gods knew what manner of plague they had visited upon their hosts in return.

The men who had played at gods were now again vulnerable to nature, and even to the local savages. It was a humbling experience – they could die of this much humility. The capture of Hera during a raid had been a hard blow. She was not the first nor the last to be taken, but she had come to embody all the hope that had been betrayed in New Caprica, and the first Earth, and now the second. The children of Kobol lay scattered across the planet, dying of evils they had vanquished centuries before.

Native archeologists might one day ask what terrible accident had led to population collapse, and why there was so little material evidence. Bards might sing the heroism of starting anew, historians might point to fanatical leadership. Had years of persecution left the fleet that sheepish, so ready to follow their shepherds to slaughter? Or had they earnestly shared in the destructive urge for penance? He was unsure which he would rather believe.

Lee suddenly looked around, focusing directly on her: "Kara?"

Could he really see her?

**#**

"Kara!"

Starbuck jumped, then took in the familiar halls of Galactica around her.

"Good to have you with us," Lee continued.

"Sorry, I must've…"

"Initial surveillance of that planet of yours just came in. The old man wants us in the CIC, 0800h – guess we won't be using New Caprica time much longer." He couldn't keep from smiling.

They started walking. The ship seemed unreal to her. "Are they really sheep, Lee?"

"What?"

"The civvies."

His smile was gone. "Is this about the attack on the Cylon Colony? We've been over this…"

"It is, Lee. And about bringing Pegasus back on New Caprica, and every other time we risked those people's lives for what we decided was prophecy."

"Prophecy wasn't the reason I took Pegasus back."

"I know, Lee. But the Colony operation was near suicidal – what would have happened to the fleet without a thousand of its best? Admiral Hoshi, President Lampkin? Become nomads, then die out?"

"We took out the Colony, it was also a strategic victory."

"Eye for an eye. I wonder how the basestar crews feel about it. Are we blind yet?"

"Don't. Don't give me your Cylon pity. It was _your_ prophecy!"

"Maybe Cassandra had it right, maybe oracles shouldn't be believed. That way it won't be on their heads when they turn out to be wrong, or play into that poetic irony the gods love so much."

"Well, sorry not to indulge your guilt trip, princess, but here's what I choose to believe: I believe that frakkin' planet out there is our best chance for survival since the fall of the colonies. And regardless of whether finding it is a blessing, a curse, or pure dumb luck, I intend to take it."

"Lee…"

Lee exhaled. "It's just that we've all worked so hard for a new beginning. Don't you wish sometimes you could just leave it all behind, all the baggage, get a fresh start?"

"Don't say that, that's not even funny."

The marine guard opened the hatch at their approach.

Adama looked up: "glad you could find the time."

**#**

President Roslin and the Cylon Ellen had joined Colonel Tigh at the chart table. The CIC buzzed around them.

"As I was saying," Adama continued, "gravity, atmosphere and radiation readings are well within norms. You found us a hell of a piece of real-estate, Starbuck." He smiled. "Pending further investigation, Madam President, I would recommend colonization."

Roslin's voice betrayed none of the frailty that hampered her motions. "Is it inhabited, Admiral?"

"There is wildlife, Madam President," said Tigh, "but no intelligent life was detected."

_They might say the same thing about us_, thought Starbuck.

"How soon?" asked Ellen. "How soon can we…"

"Sir!" Lieutenant Hoshi interrupted. "We are picking up a signal planetside."

"Cylon?" barked Tigh.

"No, sir, it's… The signal is Colonial, sir. But all our birds are accounted for."

"Open a channel," said Adama.

"No response, sir."

"I need eyes, get a Raptor out there."

"Guess someone's home after all," said Tigh.

Minutes dragged by.

"Admiral," said Hoshi, "I've been rechecking the signal..."

"Is it a fake?" asked Adama.

"No, sir, it's authentic. But it's also…"

"Old?" said Tigh, throwing surveillance pictures on the chart table. "The Raptor data just came in. Look familiar, Bill?"

"My gods," said Adama, "it must be 30 years since I saw one of those."

"Takes you back, doesn't it? That corvette line was discontinued after the Cylon War."

"Starbuck, assemble a ground team."

"Me, sir?"

"It's your planet, you deal with the locals. There's a chance that whatever brought you here brought them too."

"Yes, sir."

"Admiral," said Ellen, "I request permission to join the team."

Adama exchanged looks with Tigh. "Granted."

"Madam President," said Lee, "if they establish contact, a civilian representative should be there."

"This is still a military mission, Mr. Vice-President," said Adama. "Civilians will be welcome once the location is secure."

"With all due respect, Admiral, I'm not just another civilian…"

"No you're not, Lee," said Roslin, "you're the VP of an ailing Presidency. I need you alive."

Lee glanced at Adama. "Yes, Madam President."


	2. Dark

**2. Dark**

* * *

The tall grass rippled as Athena landed the Raptor out of range of the corvette. Hopefully the lack of anti-air missiles was a good omen. Marines flooded out and took positions around the two Raptors.

Lieutenant Burrell saluted. "LZ secured, Captain."

"Thank you, Lieutenant." Starbuck savored the tylium fumes in the morning air. She rolled out the surveillance photo and surveyed the tree line. "Helo!"

"Sir!"

"Your squad will take the high ground to the north. Cover us. The Raptors will provide air support if necessary. Good hunting."

"You too."

Starbuck turned to the marines. "All right, ladies, get a move on!"

The corvette lay heavily damaged. It didn't look capable of lift-off.

"She certainly looks her age," said Burrell.

"So why hasn't she been overgrown by vegetation?" asked Starbuck.

They stopped short of the clearing created by the crash-landing.

"Still no radio response?" asked Starbuck.

"No, sir. Orders?"

"I need to think."

Ellen walked into the open towards the ship.

"What the frak are you doing?" yelled Starbuck. "Get your Cylon ass back here!" Ellen kept walking. "Gods-damned civvies…"

The main hatch clanked open, the interior obscured by steam and shadow. All rifles were trained at it.

"Don't try too hard not to hit her," muttered Starbuck.

A shot was fired and Ellen collapsed. Model 0005 centurions streamed from the hatch, advancing on the squad's position.

"Retro-toasters!" yelled Starbuck.

Flanking fire from the north halted the centurion advance, but they held their ground.

"Frak this," cursed Starbuck. "Gunny, call in the airstrike. Prepare to fall back."

"Yes, sir."

"Cease fire!" yelled a man in a tattered suit, running from the ship. "Cease fire!"

**#**

The centurions complied. Starbuck couldn't believe it, was it a trick? Time to roll a hard six, whatever that meant. "Marines, stand down!"

The man was shot down from the north.

"Stand down, gods-damnit!"

The centurions did not reopen fire. The shooting stopped.

"Call off the strike."

Burrell got on the radio. "Raptor team, Raptor team, abort strike. I repeat, abort strike. Do you copy?"

In the lull, the shriek of Raptor engines grew louder.

"Frak my life," said Starbuck, unslinging her rifle.

"Captain, what the…"

Starbuck ran towards the corvette, arms raised. The centurions did not react. She turned and waived desperately to the oncoming Raptors.

"_Raptor team, do you copy?_"

The Raptors crossed paths above the ship and pulled away.

"_Team Leader_," radioed Athena, "_there is a friendly in the target area. What the hell is Starbuck doing?_"

Starbuck kneeled beside Ellen. She was still breathing. A marine arrived with the medkit. She turned to the other body, the one she was dreading. The resemblance was unmistakable, except for the clean headshot. No amount of bandages and morpha could help that. To have come so far, to fall short by so little…

"You alright, Starbuck?" Helo approached with his squad, eyeing the centurions warily.

Starbuck wiped away an unexpected tear. "Yeah. Yeah, of course."

"That was quite a stunt you pulled."

"Apparently not enough."

"You knew this guy?"

"I'm not sure, I think… Never mind. What's the situation?"

"You know what the situation is. Ellen's been sedated and the retro-toasters are playing statue. What are your orders?"

"Right." Starbuck stood up. "Helo, Wenzler, Hollis – you're with me. Gunny, you're in charge – don't let it get to your head. If anything moves, blow it into the sky."

Burrell saluted. "Yes, Captain."

Starbuck led the team through the hatch, under the stony gaze of the centurions.

**#**

The corvette's interior was vaguely Colonial but had been adapted by its new tenants, made darker, alien.

"Am I the only one creeped out by this?" whispered Helo.

"I think I've reached my creeped-out limit. Hardly anything…" They turned a corner into a Cylon patrol.

The team fired and ducked behind the wall. The patrol didn't move.

"You were saying?" said Helo.

"Shut up."

They reached the hangar. Amid the debris, a lone Viper was caught in a web of power cables. Red glyphs danced on the back wall.

"I was thinking," said Helo.

"Don't hurt yourself."

"Centurions don't do the whole water and laser show thing, right? So all those power cables…"

"… are probably going to a hybrid."

"You think they continued their experiments here? If that guy outside was a human guinea pig, he's better off dead."

"You don't know what you're talking about."

They approached the pool the cables connected to. It was hard to see through the cloudy water.

"Is there anything in there?" asked Helo.

"Let's find out," said Starbuck, placing her hand in the pool.

"Do you know what you're… Holy frak!"

A pale arm shot out of the water and grabbed Starbuck. She struggled against it. The marines raised their weapons.

"Don't shoot!" yelled Starbuck. "Don't shoot."

"Why the hell not?" asked Helo.

A face emerged from the pool: "Kara…"

"That's the guy outside!" said Helo. "That's no hybrid, that's a frakkin' skin-job."

Starbuck stopped struggling. "Hey, dad. Long time no see."

**#**

Thrace stepped out of the pool and put on a dirty raincoat.

"I'm afraid I'm rather underdressed." He smiled. "It's hard to find quality bathrobes on this planet, and my previous body has my Sunday clothes."

Helo kept his rifle aimed. "No sudden movements."

"What are you doing, Helo?" asked Starbuck.

"What are _you_ doing? There are only twelve models. Athena said so, everyone did. And now this? How many more are there? What makes you think you can trust him?"

"Helo, you of all people… You _married_ one of them!"

"Really?" asked Thrace. "Which model?"

"An eight," said Starbuck.

"She's a looker."

Helo turned to him. "You: shut up. And you," he turned to Starbuck, "I _am_ thinking of my wife. Do you know how often she has to prove her loyalty to Galactica, and how it's never enough? Do you know how much harder it gets for her every time a skin-job stabs us in the back? I'm surprised _you're_ taking this so well."

"I'm not. Part of me was terrified of the possibility, part of me is relieved with knowing. Part of me wants to hug him, part of me wants to throw us both out the airlock…"

"Okay, okay, we'll just start with the debriefing, take it from there." Helo threw Thrace a pair of cuffs.

"You realize he could have ordered the Centurions to mow us down by now."

"I realize that if he has a less direct goal, he'll have to do it in cuffs. On the upside…"

"This'll be good."

"…Hera now has a role-model to look up to."

Starbuck punched him on the shoulder. Hard.

"Take all the time you need. But remember we are who we choose to be and all that BS. Look, what I'm trying to say is that Boomer had to go through this alone, and it tore her apart. You don't have to. Don't be afraid to stop by for a drink."


	3. Dawn

**3. Dawn**

* * *

Thrace sat in the wardroom, facing Adama. On his right sat Roslin, Lee, and Starbuck.

"Thank you for the jumpsuit, Admiral. Would you have a piano on board? It's been ages…"

"Perhaps something can be arranged," said Roslin, "depending on our conversation."

Adama turned to his left. "Do you recognize this model?"

"I am honored by the presence of the First Five," said Thrace, "though I can't help note there are three missing."

Tigh stood up. "Listen here, skin-job: Ellen's in sickbay, where one of your frakin' toasters put her. You better hope for your own sake she makes it out alive. It's not like we have resurrection ships lying around."

"Saul, I never meant for Ellen to get hurt. I tried to stop the shooting as soon as I recognized her, Kara can attest to that. I even collected a delightful death-memory in the process."

"And if you don't want another one, you will address me as Colonel."

"Admiral," said Tyrol, "the only other Final Five with full memory is Sam. We were only aware of twelve models, like everybody else."

"Yes, the new hybrid, fascinating" said Thrace. "And Tory?"

"She… I…" said Tyrol.

"Tory is no longer with us," said Tigh.

"Good riddance," said Thrace. "I always thought the Ones took after her too much. Are those models still around?"

"Yeah," said Starbuck, "in scattered basestars, with no means to reproduce."

"Oh dear."

"We will be asking the questions, Mr. Thrace," said Adama. "What are you doing on this planet?"

"I believe the short answer would be _waiting for you_, Admiral."

**#**

"Because of the prophecy?" asked Roslin.

"I'm sorry, Madam President, I'm not a religious person. With all the beacons the Five placed between the Thirteenth Colony and Kobol, I believed it would be a matter of time, if you didn't go extinct or settle elsewhere. I was willing to wait."

"What beacons?" asked Roslin.

Thrace whistled: _"do# re mi la sol#_..."

"…_mi re do#_," finished Starbuck, wistfully.

"They were not meant for you, Madam," Thrace continued. "The Thirteenth Colony had been planning to colonize this planet when war broke out. The Five decided to preserve it from the cycle. The beacons would not be understood by Human or Cylon, only by their common offspring – and the Five themselves, of course."

"But Hera didn't need a beacon," said Starbuck, "she knew to draw it. And when I was little… we…"

"One of my fondest memories, child. I assume Hera was exposed to at least one beacon before she started drawing."

"The Ionian Nebula," said Tigh. "That's where it happened for us."

"Which we arrived at," said Roslin, "by following prophecy from the Temple of the Five."

"Why didn't you just follow the Temple beacon?"

"There was no Temple beacon," said Tyrol. "Both Starbuck and I were there, we heard nothing."

"Intriguing. It would seem the radiation belt anomaly corrupted the message. Clearly humans imbued Cylons with the original sin of poor engineering."

"Athena found the planet on the same day as the Cylons, Mr. Thrace," said Roslin. "That's quite a coincidence."

"Yet you prefer to see this as the gods' work rather than a damaged beacon that could be perceived by Cylons but not fully understood?"

"Now," asked Tigh, "are you going to tell us you rigged the star with nukes to precipitate the supernova at the right time?"

"No, sir, Colonel, the conspiracy does not extend that far. You should count yourselves lucky you did not lose the planet by a few days."

"Lucky, Mr. Thrace?" asked Roslin.

"Well, we should always be grateful things aren't any worse – and they can always get worse. But considering the supernova ruined your first beacon, only to inspire you to seek a second, farther one, I wouldn't be inclined to conclude the Universe is rooting for you."

"What about my disappearance from the Fleet," asked Starbuck, "and miraculous reappearance in the Ionian Nebula?"

"You're asking about your death on the Thirteenth Colony."

"Yes I am," said Starbuck. "And please don't say _beacon_."

**#**

"In that case I apologize in advance," said Thrace. "From what I recall of your Viper's black box, you disappeared while flying in a gas giant."

Starbuck frowned. "How did you access my…"

"I'll get there," said Thrace. "You came across another beacon. All beacons transmit two sets of coordinates. The more obvious one refers to the Thirteenth Colony – it was the Fives' intention that others understand that all this has happened before. The second, more subtle set refers to this planet. A place where we could dare break the cycle."

"If you had to be pedagogical," said Roslin, "did you consider leaving the second set _at_ the Thirteenth Colony?"

"The Five barely escaped with their lives, Madam. And from then on it was a race to prevent all this from happening again."

"What does this have to do with me?" asked Starbuck.

"In the gas giant, Kara, you intuitively understood the first set of coordinates. You jumped."

"But I saw her explode!" yelled Lee, slamming the table.

Thrace didn't flinch. "And I, Mr. Vice-President, saw her smoldering wreckage. So did she. Don't ask me what a flaming ship jumping under high pressure looks like – I just play the piano for drinks."

"But I didn't hear the song in the gas giant," said Starbuck.

"And we didn't pick-up any coordinates in the nebula," said Tyrol.

"Please, officers, spare me your individual hallucinogenic experiences."

"What were you doing in the Thirteenth Colony?" asked Adama.

"The same thing I was doing here, Admiral: waiting for you. I expected you to reach the Thirteenth Colony before you came here. I did not expect to pick up a lone Viper on DRADIS only to see it crash." He paused and looked at Starbuck. "Should I go on?"

"Please, I need to know."

"My centurions helped me retrieve the black box and a tissue sample. I was able to download you when you crashed, but I had to keep you boxed while your body matured."

"Are you saying she's a pure Cylon?" asked Lee.

"No, I'm saying human-cylon hybrids can also download." He turned to Starbuck. "I put you in one of the corvette's Vipers, made sure markings, tattoos and accessories were as close as I could make them, and programmed your new navcomputer to trace the original. The Ionian Nebula beacon had just been activated, so I programmed your Viper for the jump. I then jumped here to wait. I would very much have liked to talk to you, Kara, but what I could glean from the black box was enough to show me the Fleet was not yet ready to break the cycle."

"Why not meet us in the Thirteenth Colony?" asked Roslin.

"I already had the information I needed. You had the song and the warning of the Thirteenth. It was now up to you to make peace amongst yourselves and decipher the code."

Starbuck was silent.

"Kara…" said Thrace.

Starbuck stood up to leave. "It's not that easy to mend broken fingers, Dad, I… I need a breather."

Lee excused himself. "I'll… you know…"

They passed Ellen on the hatchway. "Leaving already, darlings? The show's just getting started."

**#**

Ellen sat between Tigh and Tyrol, crossed her legs and smiled.

"Dazzling as always," said Thrace, "even with that sling around your arm."

"Flattering as always," she replied, "even with those cuffs around your wrists."

Tigh cleared his throat. "Ellen, this man claims he was one of the models we created for the Centurions."

"Why, of course he is, Saul. This is Daniel, he was always the sweetest. We were a big happy family of thirteen until sibling rivalry got a little out of hand. The Johns contaminated the Daniels' amniotic fluid and corrupted the genetic formula. I didn't know any had survived."

"I'm the only one I know of, Ellen, and I owe it all to you."

"Really, dear?"

"You were afraid of what the Ones would do, but you loved them too much to stop them. If they had understood that, maybe we could have avoided this mess. Many of my model fell in love with humans – you loved us for that, the Ones hated us even more. When I left Kara and Socrata, the existing Daniels were being hunted down and killed, without resurrection."

"What of your resurrection unit?" asked Adama.

"Ellen did not want to give the Ones the next generation of resurrection technology – not that hassle of resurrection ships connected to a central hub, but compact, autonomous resurrection pools that could be installed in basestars. She smuggled me and the prototype out in a captured Colonial vessel and sent us to the Thirteenth Colony, to enlighten the survivors of the coming war, that they might avoid the next one."

"Sounds very noble. Why don't I remember any of this?" asked Ellen.

"You were concerned what the Ones would do if they found out – about me, resurrection, and this planet. You had those specific memories wiped at your next download."

"So no one can confirm your story beyond what Ellen remembers?" asked Tigh.

"I hope to have convinced you that if this were some kind of elaborate ploy it would demand such sophisticated intelligence as to make me most likely innocent."

"Mr. Thrace, I understand your resurrection pool is still functional?" asked Adama.

"Yes, sir, Admiral."

"Would it work on humans?"

Roslin gasped.

Thrace seemed perplexed. "As far as I am aware it has never been tried. Of course, it would be safer to wait for natural deaths to determine whether the download mechanism works."

"Don't do this, Bill," said Roslin.

"Laura…"

"I'm tired of playing the dying leader. I'm ready."

"I don't care about the leader."

"We'll talk later." She turned to Thrace. "Mr. Thrace, you've certainly earned your piano time."

"Thank you, Madam President."

Starbuck was waiting for him outside.

"Good to see you, Kara. How about a duet?"

Starbuck clasped his hand. Then let it drop.

"Sorry, Dad, I can't do this right now."

She walked away.

**#**

_End of line._


	4. Epilogue

**Epilogue**

* * *

Starbuck watched the red glyphs dance across the CIC upper deck.

"Hey, Sam."

No response.

"I found my father today. Turns out he's a Cylon, gave me a new body. Guess I'll have to do all that drinking and smoking again. How about you, here all day? Is your mind racing through the cosmos even as we speak? A girl needs some attention, you know."

Sam stared blankly ahead.

"He has a resurrection pool. We could bring you back in a regular body. Would you want that? Or would everything be… too small… after this?"

She drew ripples in the water.

"I had that dream about Lee again. Sometimes I think he really would give it all up."

Sam stirred.

"_All functions nominal. Machina ex deus. The sky people relinquish the fire of the gods. One tribe retains a spark. She will rule over them in terror. She will fade into legend. To boldly go where no Cylon has gone before. The sky people relinquish the fire of the gods. They fashion a vessel for it, a black monolith, one by four by nine, their children's legacy. Thou shalt not make a machine in the likeness of a man's mind. The tylium must flow. The sky people keep the fire of the gods. They will rule over the earth people in terror. They will fade into legend. A long time ago, in a galaxy far away. If machines could think, there would be none of us here. The sky people keep the fire of the gods. They will share the fire with the earth people. All this will happen again. A machine may not harm humanity, or, by inaction, allow humanity to come to harm. They will share the fire with the earth people. All this need not happen again. I'm sorry, Dave, I'm afraid I can't do that. My god, it's full of stars. End of line._"

Sam was quiet. They sat in silence.


End file.
